


Dancing with death

by BeetleSoda



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cato is an asshole but in a loveable puppy way eventually, F/M, Lots of people live because I say so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeetleSoda/pseuds/BeetleSoda
Summary: (Unfinished summary, will change)She starts walking, trying not to openly sob, as soon as the peacekeepers surround her she breaks, wailing and calling for her mother, her father, anyone. Clawing at their arms and kicking her legs, already fighting to stay alive. No one moves. I feel my heartbeat in my throat and my whole body shake, I hope my family can forgive me. “I volunteer as tribute.”
Relationships: Cato (Hunger Games)/Reader, Cato/OC, Cato/Reader
Kudos: 4





	1. The start

It was when I was in the middle of doing the dishes when I heard it, the bells that chimed throughout the district signaled that it was time, The Reaping. Coming from district 7 allowed me to at the very least be built enough so i wouldn’t completely starve, and my father made sure i was handy with an axe, I can throw, I could put in a fighting effort if my name was called, the careers would be the ones to kill me, i know it. The likelyhood of me being called is both high and slim, Im 18, so my name is in more than the younger ones, but I had no need to have my name put in for extra supplies, my family was well off, as well as it can be without being in the capital.  
Sighing, I set the dish I was working on aside and dry my hands off on my shirt before I heard the door open and my brother walked in, holding back tears. “It’s your 3rd reaping and you still cry like the first, mouse” He glances at me irritably due to the nickname, he never liked it, but we both knew the usual heat behind the words that siblings usually have wasn't there, it was a distraction. “I have a name,Micah, M-I-C-A-H use it.” He was always so sour, I don't know where he got it from. “And you only say that because you're about to get out of it for life” It’s true, if I manage to not get picked, I’ll never have to worry about my name being drawn. Instead i’ll get to be terrified my little brother will. “Oh i dont think it's all that great, being an adult sounds boring.” I lied. It sounds wonderful. Anything to escape the nightmare of being murdered in front of an audience. It’s bittersweet, the images of my throat being ripped out or my head being bashed in will only be replaced with him. He desperately tried to keep his face in his usual unpleasant scowl, but the next set of bells going off made his resolve crumble, we met each other halfway and I embraced him, kissing the top of his head in hopes to calm his nerves. He only ever let me do it during these times. We stood in each other's arms until the door opened and our parents stepped in, both looking grim. “I love you both, so so much.” My father's voice cracked and they both crossed the room and hugged us both fiercely. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine, no one is leaving” I tried to make my voice as confident as possible. My mother nodded and smiled sadly. “Let's get you both freshened up so we can leave.” I leave into my shared room with my mother and start changing, I had showered earlier in preparation, I wanted to have time pretending today was normal. "This, I wore it to the reaping when I was 18, and I didn't get called, I pray that the same happens to you, both of you." In her arms was a simple dress, deep green and long enough on me to most likely to cover my ankles, modesty runs deep in all districts, especially on a somber day. After I put it on she started wetting my hair down and combing her fingers through it, Micah and I both got our mothers curls and tan complexion, something that I've always been proud of. After some time, my hair was finished and I looked at myself in the mirror, my curly hair tamed and in as smooth of a ponytail as it will allow. I try to look tall and proud, I end up just looking like a child in their parents shoes, pretending. “You’ll be okay.” My mother hugs me from behind, her head on my shoulder, silent tears escaping despite her best efforts. We've always been an emotional family, and I feel that it will be our downfall, there's no room for kindness or knee jerk reactions in our world. We stay like this for a few seconds, both crying while not acknowledging it.I know it's time, and we risk running late, so I untangle myself from her and nod. “You’re right, no one is leaving anytime soon, or ever, for that matter. She nods and rubs her eyes. “You look lovely, Ellie, you always do.” I smile and hold her hand in mine, leading her to the living room where my father and Micah wait, both obviously have also shed tears. We put our shoes on and make our way.  
I squeeze Micahs shoulder when it comes to the line for 14 year olds. “You’ll be fine, I love you.” It helps him stand a little taller, and I thank whatever higher being there may be for it, he can’t afford to look weak, he can break down when we get home. “Love you too, good luck.” I soon found the line for 18 year olds, and after my blood test I'm waiting with the rest. The history lesson we have each year starts and I zone it out. I hate it, why do we suffer for our ancestors? Why the children? My throat gets tight at the thought of anyone younger than me being called, someone small and with no idea how to defend themselves, they'd die day one, alone and afraid. I see my brother in them too much and I’d do anything for someone older to take his place.  
Soon they are preparing to call names, and they make a show of it. “First, the girls, as usual!” We all tense and prepare to put on a brave face, I lock my legs so they’ll stop shaking. The silence goes on for too long, a show for the camera, it makes me sick to my stomach. “Catherine Laville” My blood runs cold, but i can’t help but feel my muscles relax. Catherine is 12, her first reaping, no older sister to take her place. She starts walking, trying not to openly sob, as soon as the peacekeepers surround her she breaks, wailing and calling for her mother, her father, anyone. Clawing at their arms and kicking her legs, already fighting to stay alive. No one moves. I feel my heartbeat in my throat and my whole body shake, I hope my family can forgive me. “I volunteer as tribute.”


	2. Far from home(???)

I force my shaky legs to carry me up the stairs and hope I don’t fall, though if I do I may land on my head and end my suffering early It sounds appealing, if only it wasn’t in front of my family and district. “Oh darling, so brave! What’s your name sweetheart?” “Elizabeth Sparse” “Lovely! Now, onto our male tribute!” A painted hand reaches into the bowl and I feel like throwing up again, my knuckles go white with the effort of clenching my fists. “Micah Sparse! Siblings, how wonderful!” I feel my stomach drop and my legs give out, but my now menor, Joannah, catches me before it's too noticeable, I keep my dignity. I don’t care. I hear my mother sob, it might as well be the only noise in the whole world, it even overpowers my thundering heartbeat. Micah starts making his way to the stage before a boy steps up. “I volunteer as tribute!” That makes me completely lose my ability to stand and Joanah can’t hold my weight so suddenly, and I feel that she doesn’t care enough to truly hold me up at the moment, her heart is elsewhere, I don’t blame her. I end up on my knees and eternally grateful to the boy who may be the person to kill me in the next few weeks. As long as it’s not Micah. By the time the volunteer gets on stage, he’s confident and that should make me worried for my health, but all I can think about is that my brother is safe this year. “What's your name, dear?” “Mason Donor” “There you are! Here are our District 7 tributes! Elizabeth Sparse and Mason Donor!” The crowd claps, only because they’re forced to do so.  
We’re ushered into a room, and I wait for my family. As soon as they enter the tears won't stop. “I’m sorry, I'm so sorry” I feel my brother reach me first, his skin looks sickly pale through my tears, he’s terrified, he WAS terrified for himself, and now I’m leaving him. I’m being squeezed by my family, my life. “We’re proud of you, she wouldn’t have made it, your bravery will touch them forever, just as Mason’s will for us, We’re so proud.” All of the terror i feel is being pulled out of me as i grip my brother with all of my strength, as he does the same.  
The peacekeepers knock, it’s too soon. “I can’t do this without you all, I've never been on my own, I’m scared.” I know I look weak, but it's only for my loved ones, the peacekeepers don’t care. My father grips my face in his hands, his familiar large, comforting hands bring me a second of peace. “Survive, throw away everything and survive. Be ruthless if you need to, be a monster, as long as you return. My baby, you can do this, you have my blood, your mother's blood.” I nod as he speaks, not trusting my voice. I feel my brother slip something in my hand, and I hold onto it like my life depends on it, something from home. “I’ll come back to you, I promise, I’ll win, I swear it, don’t even worry about me.” My voice comes out steady, surprisingly. He smiles and wipes my tears away. “Good.” The peacekeepers open the door and start to walk forward, signaling our time together is truly up. My father kisses my forehead, my mother kisses both of my cheeks, and my brother pulls me into another bone crushing hug and kisses the top of my head. “Don’t get killed, Sunflower” I choke on my words at the old nickname, I used to be obsessed with the sunflowers that grew near our house growing up, and he never let it go. “I will, little mouse, I’ll be back before you know it, have my favorite flowers out for my return, yeah?” He nods and I know he’ll do exactly that. To celebrate, not a funeral, I tell myself. Soon I’m alone again. I use that time to wipe my face, and collect myself.


	3. Train go brrrr

The rest of the day is a blur, Joanah speaks little, Just as Mason and I do the same. We're on the train to the capital and I've never felt more alone. I've accepted that I’m going to die, it’s almost certain, yet I know I have to try, which is why I approach Jonnah despite her steely gaze and cold eyes. “How do I win?” Mason looks up from his book and must realize we’re finally about to start our work to survive. “Kill whatever's in front of you, don’t eat bad food, drink water.” We both stare at her as we wait for more. After a beat I realize that’s all we’ll get. Mason is the first to anger. “Seriously? That’s bullshit, you survive and all of the sudden the rest of us are beneath you.” Joanna's face turns red and she steps in front of the chair Mason is sitting in. He matches her expression. They stay like that for a minute before she throws her head back, laughing. It was my turn to be pissed. “Don’t laugh, nothing about this is funny.” It didn't have his sudden explosive anger that Mason had, but up until now i had been pretty docile. She snaps her head in my direction, my attitude doesn't make her face fall, in fact, she smiles wider. “Looks like you didn’t volunteer to fuck around. Good.” She nods to no one in particular and seems to come to some decision. “We’ll seriously start once we arrive, for now I suggest eating and sleeping as much as possible, this is the only time you'll be allowed to be easy on yourself, relax.” She snorts after half a beat of silence, seemingly knowing the irony of telling two people to relax when we both most likely won’t be alive in the next few weeks. Once it’s just the two of us I glance at Mason through the corner of my eye. He’s well built, easily 170, and he’s around 5’10 and freshly 18. A serious risk to my health. “What did you do at home?” He seemed surprised that I was talking to him, in his defense, so am I. “.... Lumber ``''Obviously, I mean, in your free time.” “You want to know my skills.” I must have pulled a face because he seems to find something amusing, trying not to laugh in front of me directly. “That obvious?” I genuinely want to know more about him, but if he knew that I’d be seen as an even easier target. “We’ll be training together, and even if you knew, someone of your size couldn’t stop me.” Right, he's dangerous and actively sees me as a kill, a target, a tribute, this isn’t time for friends. “So tell me.” “I wrestle, and I used to fix up animals back home, it’s not much.” “It’s something, hand to hand combat is essential, and knowing about treating wounds is even more so.” He looks taken aback by the compliment and his face burns red, from frustration or embarrassment, I’m not sure. I know he won’t ask, but i feel compelled to tell him, to be as friendly as we can with what time we have. “I throw things, Axes, mainly, and I run. That’s really nothing special.” In fact, Micah and I are the fastest when it comes to potential tributes in 7, I know it. Mason doesn’t need to know that. He processes what I told him, probably deciding how to use it against me. “You should practice on survival skills if that’s the case, if you can throw you can kill from a distance, that’s good.” It was my turn to feel my face burn, and mine was definitely from embarrassment. “Thank you.” My voice comes out softer than I had wanted, but before I could continue talking Mason yawned. The day seemed to hit at once and I found myself yawning as well. “Get rest, you’ll need it. I hear Johanna is even more of a bitch when she’s serious.”


	4. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We had all talked about what we would focus on, and right now that's suffering through intense waxing and grooming. I've felt that i've always been a cute girl growing up, my parents and friends told me as such, my old girlfriends and boyfriends in school naturally agreed. Dark brown eyes, curly brown hair past my shoulders, tan skin, a nice simple round nose, round face, round eyes, I'm soft all over, as much as you can be with physical labor and slight combat training, desirable to some for sure, but not a killer's body. However, laying on this table surrounded by people poking and prodding, making gagging noises after a particularly hairy patch of hair comes off, I feel hideous. I don’t blame them.

We had all talked about what we would focus on, and right now that's suffering through intense waxing and grooming. I've felt that i've always been a cute girl growing up, my parents and friends told me as such, my old girlfriends and boyfriends in school naturally agreed. Dark brown eyes, curly brown hair past my shoulders, tan skin, a nice simple round nose, round face, round eyes, I'm soft all over, as much as you can be with physical labor and slight combat training, desirable to some for sure, but not a killer's body. However, laying on this table surrounded by people poking and prodding, making gagging noises after a particularly hairy patch of hair comes off, I feel hideous. I don’t blame them, they look exotic and hairless in all the places besides where they want it. I find myself looking at one with a particular set of jewelry and I find myself slightly jealous. I never got the chance to express myself like that, another cruelty for those not in the capital. I hear something about cutting hair and it snaps me out of my daze. “Don’t cut my hair.” They startle and look at me, I hadn't planned on speaking, but my hair is all I have left of my family. My mother. “We’re only trying to look out for you, it would become a hassle in the arena.” Shocked that they came to that conclusion instead of a vain one, I laid there with wide eyes as they all looked at me, waiting. They’re right. Yet I can’t bring myself to give the okay. “I’ll be fine.” They continue working. ‘It’s alright, I’ll test the waters and cut it after I win.’ It’s a false promise, but it warms me nonetheless. After they feel I’m hairless enough, and scrubbed enough, they tell me to enter a room and strip. I enter and slowly remove my robe, embarrassed and feeling far too hot and nervous. I hear the door open but I refuse to turn around and expose myself to the people behind it. I wait for it to shut and I finally see my designer. “Hello, my name is Valda.” She looked… Relatively normal, besides the bright eye makeup and large earrings, and she seemed calm, so kind. I let myself relax, despite Johannas voice in my head yelling at me for being an idiot. I’ll listen to it when i’m in the arena. Shuffling from one foot to another, I feel compelled to introduce myself as well. “Elizabeth, though you already know that.” I find myself embarrassed that I stated the obvious in front of the one person I've felt truly comfortable around since all of this has happened. She only smiles and quickly looks me up and down. “Elizabeth, a beautiful name for a beautiful tribute. I want to make you stunning, but that will come later, now I need to make you fierce, eye-catching. “And something woody.” I try to joke. She nods and chuckles. “Yes, something along those lines. You can put the robe on now.” I quickly put it on and tie it, feeling less out of my element covered. Valda picks up a notebook and starts writing in it, taking glances at me, and mumbling about Mason. I sit with my hands in my lap, not wanting to bother her, right now she's my biggest ally, besides Johanna. Soon she stands and smiles. I can’t help but grin with her.   
After a few hours Mason and I are in matching outfits, with gold chest plates, and brown branch looking mesh sleeves, Mason’s pants are a dark green, matching the bottom half of my dress. Johanna is besides us, not looking angry, or at least as angry. “I wish I had this back when it was a tribute, you two look like you might actually be capable like this.” Mason scoffs, while I graciously accept the shit excuse of a compliment. She’s trying. “Thank you, I feel a bit ridiculous to be honest.” Johanna softenes at that, just a bit. “Don’t let them know that, all they know is that you own it all, and that will translate to the arena.” I nod right as Valda puts what resembles deer antlers made of wood on top of my head, pushing my hair flatter. I feel almost naked having so much glamour and attention on me, and my face so exposed with extravagant makeup. A trivial thing to be bothered by considering my circumstances, but it felt nice to be upset over something so small. Mason has a matching one, and when he catches my eyes he sends a crooked smile my way, I give him a much broader one in return. Soon they both leave and the carriages start to move. District 1 Marvel and Glimmer both have bright pink outfits, very bright, they pull it off with confidence. Next is district 2, Cato and Clove, gold armor and gold bands, showing off Clove's lethal frame and Catos large stature, he seems much too big to be anything but 18, while Clove looks at most 16. Before I know it it's our turn, the lights blind me, but I remember to smile and wave, putting my all into being as sweet as i can muster, it would normally come as easy as breathing, if the capitols sheep weren’t so eager to watch me die. Once we get to the front, I see district 12, Peeta and Katniss, aflame. I allow myself to show childish awe before Mason is lightly tapping my foot with his. I snap my mouth shut and sheepishly smile at him. “Sorry.” He grins and shakes his head, the small exchange making me feel more content than I should. Once 12 reaches the front and their flames are extinguished, Snow speaks. My turn to tune it all out. I glance at the other tributes, and I find my eyes landing on Marvel, one of the tallest, the only ones rivaling him are Thresh and Cato. I glance at all three of them, most of the tributes are taller than me, but the height difference is scary, they're scary. I catch Cato staring at me, obviously he found me looking first. Face burning, I look at the handles I’m holding onto and find that the speech is over and we’re moving again.   
Once we reach the end, Valda and Johanna are next to us as soon as we’re off. “That was excellent! Mason you had such a presence! And Elizabeth-” “Ellie.” In the rush of everything, I feel even more connected to her. Valda seems pleased, even if she was shown up by 12. “They put a big target on their back, you still caught eyes while being safe, good.” Johanna seems less on edge as she says it, glancing at the other tributes, before she freezes and glares at something. I turn to see what had offended her so much, and I realize it wasn’t something, it was someone. Or more specifically, two people. Marvel and Glimmer, they’re whispering to each other, and their mentor, looking at us and glancing at district 2. Already picking out their alliance, and their prey. “Let’s speak somewhere private.” Ignoring the stares of the careers, we leave and I can’t help but relax once we’re In our suite, it’s as close to home as I can get. Home. My heart painfully squeezes at the thought and I blink back tears. “Now, until your interview, dress up is over, this part will truly decide if you survive these next few weeks.” Mason takes her words seriously, his mouth in a flat line and his arms folded. He’s been more willing to speak and listen since the train. He nods along as he listens to her give us instructions for the next part of our time together. Training with the other tributes.


	5. Before Confrontation

Nightmares plague my mind when I can't force myself into a dreamless sleep. Though that’s all that i've been having lately. Nightmares. Being brutally murdered, my family watching. For some reason, tonight I imagine the District 2 boy, blue eyes piercing into my soul, as his sword pierces my flesh. I awake with a start, I’m sure I was screaming, I grip my shirt over my rapid heart and try to calm my breathing. It doesn’t work. I check the time, 7:10am. Fuck. Training starts at 10:00am and I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to. Under normal circumstances I’d have started my day already, but Johanna has been having us sleep in as much as possible, and when we’re awake, we’re listening to her every word. As I sit and try to calm myself I hear a knock on the door. “You okay?” Mason. I sit in silence, debating if showing how truly weak I am is wise, but I remember that he saved my brother's life. I would do anything to repay that. Instead of answering verbally, I stand and make my way to the door, opening it and seeing he looks like how I feel. “Nightmares.” It wasn’t a question. I nod. He smiles sadly. “Want to walk around?” “Can we?” “I’m sure when we break a rule they’ll let us know, if we’re gonna play by their rules in a few weeks, why not bend the rules a bit?” I step out and close my door behind me. “Lead the way.”  
We end up in what looks like a general kitchen. Why would they allow the other tributes to eat together? I’ll never know, but in other circumstances I’d delight in something so personal with others my age. No, only District 1’s tributes, Cato, District 11, Thresh, and Mason are my age, if not a year younger. Too many young tributes this year. We sit at a table across from each other. “Why did you volunteer for Micah?” Mason never had any reason, we only knew each other due to school, and we never had any alone time together, our families never even formally met, that I know of. “Why did you volunteer for Catherine?” I saw Micahs fear in her eyes and I did what I would have wanted for him, what Mason did. That’s not the same as an only child volunteering for someone else’s child, on his last year. Most people ignore the weeping families and crying children, glad to be alive another year. I don’t blame them. I must have been silent for too long, because he answers my question. “Siblings pitted against each other is far too cruel.” I look at him and his dark eyes show nothing but honesty and sadness. I realize I no longer want this boy next to me to die, and I desperately wished we had been closer as children. “If we hadn’t stepped in the district 7 tributes would be a 14 year old and a 12 year old.” The sentence settles in my stomach and I feel like I've been thrown in an ice bath. “Some districts here are like that, Mason, how are we going to kill them? Children?” He looks at me with a pained expression and sighs. “I don’t know.” Despite the painful topic, I appreciate this moment of honesty, like we’re allies.  
The silence we sit in is disrupted by laughing, and we both freeze. The somber mood that feels appropriate for what is bound to happen in the next few weeks is no longer there, whoever it is, they aren't worried. Soon, the district 1 and 2 tributes walk in. “Shit.” Mason’s right, shit indeed. Before we can move, they notice us. The games haven’t even started and we’ve already been caught by the careers. Clove is the first to speak. “What do you think you’re doing?” She looks at me with such distaste I truly feel like I did make a mistake. “We could ask you the same question.” Mason is quick to recover, and I silently thank him for it. Confrontation has never been something I've sought after, I'm not great under verbal pressure. That’s something I need to get past, quickly. “Now don’t go acting like us just because you volunteered.” Clove sneered, her small nature looking like a disguise, hiding the viper underneath. I wonder how she plans on killing us, what she specializes in. Mason just put a flashing target on his back, I needed to get him out of here before he made it worse, and I do something stupid. “We would never.” It comes out meaner than I meant, fuck. Cato’s head snaps in my direction, seemingly seeing me for the first time since we had a semi staring contest on the carriages. “You’re right, you could never be like us.” I can tell mason is itching to fight back, and I feel flattered, even if it wasn’t for me, it still feels like it's us against them. At least for now. “So the lowly district 7 tributes intimidate you? You should save the comparison when we get our scores, don't you think?” I shoot him a grin, proud of what feels like my first moment of properly defending myself. I can't help but let myself be bitter, the careers are ruthless, and they’ll most likely be the one to kill me. I don’t want to die without fighting. Glimmer looks like she wants to say something, and by the look on her pretty face, I'm sure whatever it is, It wouldn't have been pleasant. “Maybe the other districts aren’t a complete loss.” Cato is grinning at me, a hint of danger behind it, yet I feel like it’s less at me, but a general constant state of on edge, a feral animal always ready to strike. I’m reminded of my nightmare. District 1 leaves first, leaving district 2 with us. Mason and I sit and wait, if we leave, it’s showing weakness. The careers are a pack, they’re allowed to leave, that's how the Capital wants it, the loyal are trained and allowed luxuries, the rest are left bitter and desperate. The two whisper among themselves, and I take that time to check the time. 8:30am. Today is going to be a long day. Clove stands and leaves. Cato looks at us. “I apologize for their behavior, as a peace offering, I’ll walk you to your floor.” Both Mason and I are baffled, looking at each other sharing matching shocked faces. He’s trying to make us mess up, I know it. Or worse, he’s egging Mason on. Fighting before the arena is strictly forbidden. Whatever they’re planning, I’ll bite, after all, If I don’t make it, but I can make sure Mason does, for Micah. “I’ll accept, Mason doesn’t care much for idle chatter.” I put on a brave face and smile as sweetly as I can muster. Mason silently nods at me, I’m sure grateful, and stands to leave. Cato may be dangerous, but he can’t hurt me before the arena. His large build is useless in this situation, all of his training against my words. If I play my cards right I can get something out of this. I stand and he follows immediately after. Soon we’re in front of the District 7 door, and I look up at him. “Thank you.” He gives me another grin, this one broader, as he leans against the wall, invading my personal space as he leans forward slightly. The chill I feel is partial fear and something else I want to ignore. “No problem, I’ll see you at training, 7.” I nod and quickly go through the door before he can embarrass me anymore, my face hot.


	6. Chapter 6: fraternizing with the enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m surprised you had the audacity to be so cocky, 7.” I cringe to myself. Cato. “Well, not all of us are-” I stop myself. Not all of us are Capitol lap dogs, that’s what i wanted to say, but I’m sure they’re listening, especially when we’re all together like this. “Not all of us have trained like you have.” It’s true, Cato is massive, and pleasing to the eyes, a perfect tribute as all Careers are. He narrows his eyes, and I know he caught my slip. “I know, it’s hardly a challenge with how weak you all are.” He snatches the 6th spear out of my hands.

The first day of training feels like hell. Johanna wants us to focus on survival training, and to follow the other lower tributes lead and not show off. It’s hard with Cato’s eyes following me when he's not mutilating practice dummies. After 2 days of constant nightmares, memorizing how to build a fire and what plants to avoid the ache of home and the frustration of the careers circling Mason and I like sharks are at an all time high. Mason and I arrive early on the last day of training, it’s 9:00am, we walk in and see the careers. It was obvious that they’d be here early, and either way, we couldn’t avoid them. They’re all focused on the combat half of the room, and Mason starts on the medical side. I work my way on the climbing net, I have the advantage of being at least smaller than all of the older tributes. I’m short but not thin, despite that I’ve improved with climbing surprisingly well, I can reach the top faster each time, and I feel pride swell in my chest. I’m sure I can stay out of their range for long enough. I end up at the top in record time, the swing and momentum boosting me forward. I scan the room from the top, Cato and Marvel are at the weapons station, Clove is in her usual knife throwing station, never missing her mark. I’m itching to go down and practice throwing the different axes they have, and see what fits the best. I’m sure I could throw knives if I was pushed to, but not like Clove, not even close. I see Mason going over different knots and I know that the careers think we’re pitiful, like the rest of the tributes. That’s what we want, yet it rubs me the wrong way. I carefully make my way down, not wanting to injure myself before the games, we go in whatever condition we’re in. Once my feet hit the ground the rest of the tributes file in, all looking miserable, I’m sure I share a similar expression. They all spread out and continue the same thing that has started to feel routine, it’s cruel really.  
I set myself in the spear throwing area, with Thresh. I want to get in throwing different weapons, and spears are so forgien to me that I couldn't possibly show off even if I wanted to. I've thrown at least 5 of them, and they make it to the target, it wouldn't kill a person, but it would cause some serious damage if they were close enough, it is a weapon after all. “I’m surprised you had the audacity to be so cocky, 7.” I cringe to myself. Cato. “Well, not all of us are-” I stop myself. Not all of us are Capitol lap dogs, that’s what i wanted to say, but I’m sure they’re listening, especially when we’re all together like this. “Not all of us have trained like you have.” It’s true, Cato is massive, and pleasing to the eyes, a perfect tribute as all Careers are. He narrows his eyes, and I know he caught my slip. “I know, it’s hardly a challenge with how weak you all are.” He snatches the 6th spear out of my hands. “Hey!” I go to grab it back arms reaching for it as he raises it over his head, taunting me while he looks down at me with a wolfish grin. I see the peacekeepers tense and look our way. Favoritism. “You’re throwing it wrong.” He grips it and I can tell he’s right, it looks like it belongs in his hands. I feel embarrassed but I’m not going to turn down information from a career, which is either a poor decision or a very good one. I watch as he pulls a massive arm back and sends it hurling into the heart of a dummy, going clean through it, gutting it. The nightmare comes back to my mind, and I realize he’s showing me this to scare me. Who cares if I know how to throw a spear? He’ll make sure I’ll never even see one in the arena. I must have been thinking far too deeply because I don’t notice that he’s moved behind me, another spear in hand. “Here.” HIs voice is right behind me and he’s putting the spear in my hands, like he was. He’s completely covering me, and I panic, before I realize I can mostly talk without filter as long as I keep my voice down. “If you’re looking for a challenge, you should sweet talk Thresh.” He laughs at that, not the cruel hyena-like laugh I had imagined in my nightmares. It rumbled in his chest and, despite our position in the hunger games food chain, I feel my face heat up. I feel ridiculous, like a schoolgirl again. The familiar feeling warms my face and neck. “I can’t imagine that conversation going anywhere, and It’s much more satisfying to watch your reaction. I’ll like it just as much in the arena too, cutie.” I bristle at the pet name, but he's grabbing my hands and pulling them back like he did moments before. “Put your whole body into it.” I do as he says and the spear goes into the same spot he hit it, though not nearly as deep. I turn to him in a moment of blind excitement, smiling broadly. The shock on his face is what brings me back to reality. He looks like a lost deer, all wide eyed, not in his element. “Can’t wait to use this nifty trick on you, 2.” It’s an easy way out, something he’s comfortable with, imagining how he’ll murder me. He uses it and slips back into a confident grin. “I’d like to see you try.”  
Soon the day is ending, Cato now avoiding me like the plague. Fine by me. I stick to Mason and he sticks to me. It’s alarming how I’m now so used to him by my side. During lunch, we sit with the girl and boy from District 12. The girl is as stiff as a board and seems to have the personality of one as well, though not by choice I assume. I don’t blame her, I’m sure she’s a delight with her loved ones, not people who’re going to be trying to kill her very soon. The boy, Peeta, is a delight. After the initial stiff tribute talk had ended, we both accepted the companionship and delved into lengthy conversations about the different types of bread and wood we could remember from memory. It wasn’t anything normal friends would talk about, but it was the most anyone could ask for during all of this. I instantly feel a kindred spirit and wish, as I do with Mason, that I didn't have to try and kill him. We would have been fast friends.


	7. What's in a number?

Chapter 7  
My feet pound against the cement floor, it’s scalding my worn shoes and tingling my feet. I can feel my burns and cuts itching and oozing as well. I can’t imagine the sweets I had in the Capital. Cement ia everywhere, I feel like everything is the same, I’m losing my mind. No place to hide and the sun is blazing over me and causing my dry mouth and cracked lips to burn. I can’t remember when I lost Mason, I just feel his loss. His death. I can't remember anything, my mind is so foggy that thinking about the last few days hurts. Everything hurts. My hands are shaking and the worn axe in my hands shakes with it. The blisters on my fingers feel like they’re going to burst as I grip it tighter. I killed them with this axe, I killed people. I can’t come back from this. The careers are no more, they’re all gone. Except for him. HE tricked me and now Mason is gone, now he’s after me. The only ones left are district 12, Thresh, myself and Cato. I can’t help but feel that someone else is with us, I just can’t remember. It hurts, my legs feel like giving out but i can’t stop running. My lungs burn every time I try to go faster. I can’t remember the last time I had water. I want to die already, give up, yet my body refuses to let me stop. My whole body is screaming at me. I hear something far too close to me and I realize I had slowed to a stroll, my body so tired and mind so far gone that I could be completely stopped and I wouldn’t be able to tell. The sound is from a person, I’m going to die. The fear is outweighed by my relief to finally stop burning. I feel like I’m on fire. "You can’t run cutie, you should have accepted my offer. Runts like you don’t survive the hunger games." I turn my head slowly, the dirt in my hair falls over me like snow and I see him. Cato. His chest is heaving and he’s covered in blood, yet he looks just as powerful as when I last saw him. It’s terrifying. This is what the capital breeds, murderers that can outlast the rest. My heart is racing, I feel like it may fall out of my chest. The earth feels like it’s titling and suddenly I feel the cement under me, my shoulder hits the ground hard. When did I fall? I can’t move anymore. I hear his heavy footsteps over the ringing in my ears.His hair has gotten slightly longer, the front landing over his forehead slightly as he looks down on me. His breathing is now even. His eyes are piercing me, as sharp as his weapon and just as deadly. I feel the fear come racing back as the relief fades. I move as fast as I can, which isn’t at all, my arm blindly grasps at his pants, shaking as I cry. Soon his breath is fanning over my face as he stares at me. He’s so close. I stare into his eyes as his blade rips through my chest.  
The nighmtare ends and I'm in my room, the capitals room. The bed feels huge and I feel so incredibly small. The imaginary blade that pierced my heart woke me with a start, my stomach aching and twisting, sitting in my bed drenched in sweat. Another day closer. Breakfast was silent and somber, Johanna preparing us for the day. Today we will be scored. It’s extremely important to have a plan, get a high score and gain the interest of the capital and gain potential sponsors, or try and get a low score to stay out of the careers and other tributes radar. “Since the careers are already aware of you both, especially someone's temper-” She glances at Mason, with something akin to pride in her eyes. “The goal is to show that you both mean business, you could try to divert their attention and get a low score, a 4 for Ellie and a 6 for Mason, both are good scores to make it believable. I don’t recommend it” She says this, yet I don’t think I could get a noticeable high score if I tried, I could get a 6 if I really tried, but my aim can’t make up for the lack of power behind my throws. The faith she has in me makes me both happy and ashamed that I’m going to disappoint her today. Nonetheless, I soak up all of the information willingly next to Mason, the rivalry of him being an opponent gone from my mind, I’d fight the other tributes but he’s not my enemy, none of them are, but my humanity won’t let me kill him just like I think he feels the same. It’s not what my family wants, not what my dad wanted. But my life is in my hands and I know I stand no chance against any of the careers, not Cato. I can help him win, if I survive long enough. Cato. He’s been on my mind since training, one could call it a morbid fascination. He will most likely be the one to kill me in the arena, yet I can't help but be drawn to him. I feel that if he wasn’t a career we’d be friends. Maybe that’s just me being optimistic. “Elizabeth.” I look up and Mason is staring at me. “You’re going cross eyed, what are you thinking about?” To say or not to say. It’s embarrassing. “The careers.” I admit sheepishly. I’m sure every other tribute thinks about the careers, who wouldn’t? It’s just not like this. Sadly. He rolls his eyes and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like cursing out a certain blonde haired career. “That’s all part of their plan, his plan. Don’t let them get stuck in your head, stick with me and we’ll be golden.” I smile at him and nod, ignoring that we no longer talk about how only one of us could possibly come out alive, and it wouldn’t be me. I’ve accepted that.  
The combination of the chill in the room and the cold chairs in the waiting room chill my legs and make them itch, I start swinging them slightly to keep the blood flowing. I turn my head toward Mason, who is shifting in his chair in a similar fashion. “You’d think that with all of the money the capital has, they’d have warmer rooms.” I mutter under my breath. Speaking isn’t against the rules, but it feels rude to speak with my full voice. He huffs out a laugh. “Maybe that’s their game, to psych us out.” I nod “So wise you are.” He grins and puffs his chest out slightly. “I try, partner.” The nickname makes me feel giddy. I adore my new friendship with him, it’s tender and fragile, always on the cusp of breaking under the pressure, but he makes moments that are normally terrifying bearable. It’s what I need. Desperately. “District 1 Marvel.” Reality comes crashing down on me and I look over to the pack at the front. The moment is over once the first tribute is called. The careers cheer like a pack of wolfs, eager to show the capital how ready they are to kill the weaker links. To show that they deserve sponsors delivered on a silver platter in the arena. Cato stands to pat him on the back before he leaves, the grin on his face so close to my nightmares that I feel a chill run through me. Just as I go to turn my head, just as everyone else, Cato meets my eyes with a new emotion on his face, he looks like he’s almost like he’s regretting something. It ends when I force myself to look away, remembering Mason's words from breakfast. ‘It’s part of his plan, stick with me.’ I feel my arm brush Masons and it grounds me.  
“District 7, Mason.” He stands and I see his fingers twitch with anxiety. I grasp his hand and smile up at him. “You’ll do great, aim high.” He squeezes my hand once, twice, three times. I squeeze back and watch him walk through the doors. I feel the cold truly creep in and settle in my bones. The reality of today feels like a direct contrast from my nightmare, I couldn’t pick which is worse. The lead up to my most likely gruesome death, or the death itself. I come to the conclusion that it’s the waiting,the waiting is the most cruel. If we had been dropped into a pit the day we were picked it would all be over, I now recognize these people, their voices and eyes. They’re so human. I look over to district 12, they’re going to be the last ones here, the girl will be alone. I try to catch Peetas attention. We’ve had a few more conversations together, he seems so different from his female counterpart Katniss, yet he seems happy enough to be by her side. I wonder what score they’ll get. The one to look my way is her, she looks at me with something akin to anger. It’s obvious she isn’t looking to make friends, it’s smart. She’s smart, detaches herself from the kill, and prepares. She also knows her way around the different plants like an expert, maybe she’s been in a forest a few times, Mason told me when he went through them one day of training. However, she isn’t good at lying, even to herself. I saw the fear before she looked my way. I don’t blame her. We’re all afraid, no one is above each other in that regard. Even the careers will be afraid in the arena, when it’s just them against each other. Maybe not Cato, maybe he’s not afraid. The thought of a guiltless Cato over the corpse of Mason invades my thoughts and I feel sick. “District 7, Elizabeth.” My heartbeat feels like a jackrabbit, I’m still not sure what I should do, is my aim good enough to impress them? Standing up, I shakily inhale and exhale making my feet work toward the door. The open area beyond it contained all of the weapons from the training days, and the person behind the games looked me in the eyes once, and looked away. More focused on the food and guests residing in the room above me. The anger of being ignored fuels me as I walk over to the section that holds the axes, the beautiful beautiful axes. I pick up a simple one, it has a stunning wood handle,and feels solid in my hands, it’s plain compared to the other ones but I’m unfamiliar with them. ‘I hope they don’t look down on using a plain weapon.’ Knowing them, they might. I hold it in my hands with different types of grips, feeling it out. Eventually I muster up the courage to turn toward the targets, the buttons next to me show different modes and versions of the targets, some I recognize from Clove’s training, fast paced and difficult, I don’t think I could keep up with it. I press the option for a slower paced version of hers, dummies shaped as men appear from above the ground, circling around each other in a way that almost resembles children running around, playing tag. A visceral image of Micah and Catherine running around appears in my mind. My chest heaves and stomach drops. It takes everything in me to keep the axe in my hand. ‘That is why you volunteered. Don’t let it go to waste.’ Glancing up and seeing that they’re watching, I prepare myself, winding my arms back, remembering how Cato used his body to gut the dummies, and I send the axe flying.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any errors I'm open to people letting me know, I'm not the best writer and I never have anyone read over it before I post.


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